When fate and worlds collide

33 | Mate Bond

“No,” he snapped, shoving the reaction down with brutal control. “Not again, Trixa.” He turned away, stalking across the courtyard as his pack parted to let him pass, several members lifting those still slow to wake from the Aura surge.

“I don’t know how or why,” Trixa pressed, following him, “but that surge of power is tied to our Luna.” Daegon spun on his heel. Teeth bared and power flaring at the word.

“She is no Luna of my pack—unless I say so.” The words cracked like thunder. Trixa recoiled, shock flashing across her face before instinct finally kicked in. She bowed her head a fraction, teeth clenched, forced into submission by his authority.

“She is your fated mate,” Trixa shot back anyway, defiance threading her voice. “The Luna the Goddess herself granted you.”

Goddess, why was she so stubborn on this matter?

“I do not care if the Goddesses themselves gifted me ten fated mates. It changes nothing. My decision stands. And I will not entertain, or tolerate, this discussion again.” Daegon boomed, dominance rolling outward in a crushing wave. Trixa’s lips peeled back in frustration—but she bowed deeper, yielding likeFuck rest of the pack. Once, she might have stood beside him as Luna, but she did not have the power. to resist his authority.

Only the true Luna did.

And Daegon would never allow that bond to rule him.

“Accept her or reject her, King Alpha Daegon,” Trixa said through clenched teeth, grinding out his full title, “you still need to find her.” Silence followed. She was right—which irritated Daegon.

As long as his fated mate existed in this world, she was a vulnerability. A blade someone else could wield against him. If the Dark Aura was still here—if the bloodfiends truly roamed this dimension and potentially be under Narezza’s control—then discovering his mate would give them leverage he could not afford.

The courtyard held its breath. No one moved. No one dared in fear of stepping inside their Alpha’s line of sight.

Daegon stared toward the distant city, jaw tight as he calculated risk, terrain, losses. Territory they had never properly mapped because too many never returned due to the number of feral rogues, Vargulfs, and bloodfiends—once vampires, now warped into something feral and merciless.

“What happens,” Trixa added quietly, “if the Dark Aura learns your mate is here? We haven’t seen Nerezza since she collided our worlds together.” Daegon exhaled sharply—more a growl than a breath—then turned and stalked away, power snapping at his heels as the pack scattered to give him room. Treyton watched him go, then looked back to Trixa, worry etched deep into his face.

Her fear mirrored his own. But they both knew the truth. Their King was not a man who changed his mind easily.

Once their Alpha vanished within the building, the tension he left behind snapped tight. Trixa rounded on Treyton, her pale eyes blazing, magic still crackling faintly beneath her skin.

“There is something we are not seeing,” she spoke sharply. “It’s been nearly four years, Trey. Four. And not once have we encountered a true vampire.” Treyton straightened slightly, already bracing himself. “Nerezza did not steal the crystals, slaughter the Blue Moon pack, and merge two worlds together, just to have her entire species devolve into twisted, mindless beasts.” Trixa continued, voice low and furious. She turned her gaze toward the distant city, its broken skyline jagged against the sky. “That outcome makes no sense.”

Treyton followed her line of sight. “And what do you propose?” he asked carefully. “Our King has forbidden entry into the city. Only Patrol Teams A and B are authorized to scout the border—and even that’s limited. The Vargulfs don’t roam this far anymore either.” Trixa said nothing at first. Her fingers flexed at her sides as she thought, eyes distant.

“If our Luna is in that city,” she responded finally, “and the Dark Aura is as well, then Daegon will have to face the truth eventually. Avoiding the city isn’t strategy anymore—it’s denial.”

Treyton’s jaw tightened. “And if we find her?” he asked. “Daegon has made his position very clear, Trixa. He has no intention of accepting a mate. Even you can’t push him past that line.” Trixa’s expression darkened. “There are many in this pack who revere the Moon Goddess,” Treyton continued quietly. “Her blessings are sacred to them. If he rejects the Luna openly… it will not go well. Loyalty only stretches so far when disrespect is a high opponent.”

The look Trixa gave him made his skin prickle.

“Our King needs a Queen,” she stated flatly. “Every Alpha is strongest with their Luna at their side. That is not opinion—it is history. Werewolf, Lycan, Vampire and Fae alike.” They both stared toward the path Daegon had taken.

“It seems,” Treyton said after a moment, “that he’s willingly chosen to forget that.” Trixa’s lips thinned.

“Or,” she murmured, turning away, “it was beaten out of him.” She walked off before Treyton could respond, leaving him standing there, the weight of her words settling cold and heavy in his chest.

Daegon retreated to his study with the intention of doing something useful—reviewing border routes, refining scout rotations, tallying resources. Order had always been his weapon of choice. Numbers behaved. Maps obeyed.

Not long after sunset, everything went to hell.

The fear hit him like a physical blow—raw, overwhelming, laced with a surge of adrenaline that did not belong to him. It was distant, unfocused, yet it hooked into his chest and yanked hard enough to make his wolf rear back, howling in panic and fury.

Mate.

Daegon slammed the thought aside. His hands shook as he reached for the maps. He told himself it was exhaustion. Weeks of relentless drills. Endless patrols. Too little rest and too much responsibility.

A lie—and he knew it.

The weight in his gut said otherwise. His gaze drifted to the window, where night folded itself around the compound like a closing fist. Darkness pressed in, heavy and watching.

Images surged unbidden: Sean’s mate, mouth open in a silent scream. The Dark Aura’s handiwork. They always exploited the bond—prolonged it, twisted it, wrung agony from it before granting death. It was a cruelty refined by centuries. His mother flashed through his mind for a single, fractured heartbeat. Daegon locked the memory away with brutal efficiency, but panic still clawed at his chest. Another wave rolled through him—adrenaline that was not his, fear that tasted foreign. His wolf didn’t snarl this time.

It whimpered. Daegon went very still. He wasn’t stupid. If—and it was a monumental if—these sensations belonged to his mate, then whatever she was facing was bad. Potentially fatal.

He straightened sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache began to pound behind his eyes. Control. He forced himself to breathe, to think. He cataloged supplies, recalculated patrol schedules, mapped contingency routes. Anything to anchor himself.

But the night dragged on, and the spikes didn’t stop.

Pain lanced across his back without warning, followed by a sudden, uncontrolled surge of Aura magic threading blindly through the flow. Daegon grunted in surprise, straightening, eyes snapping to the window—to the trees beyond, and then, inevitably, to the city crouched in the distance.

‘Mate,’ his wolf growled, deeper now. Insistent.

“Enough,” Daegon said aloud, crushing the voice down.

In this world, the bond between his and wolf was muted. Less overwhelming. Easier to control. A blessing—and a curse. When he called on his wolf, it felt sluggish, delayed. Shifting into his Lycan form was worse. Like moving through wet cement.

Eventually, the pain receded. The foreign emotions ebbed, leaving behind a hollow ache that settled deep in his chest.

Daegon stared at the city long after the feeling faded. He could only hope that restraint was still the right choice.